


fists to a gunfight

by howlingheartdemigod (helpmeimstuckon)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Beau gets shot, Blood and Gore, F/F, Florence Nightingale Effect, Modern AU, but i stand by it, if you're wondering 'hey uh what the hell is happening backstory wise???', loose understanding of how to patch a gunshot wound, medical gore, so it's what goes along with that, the answer is i was on nyquil whne i wrote this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 23:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17755493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helpmeimstuckon/pseuds/howlingheartdemigod
Summary: “Ah, well… I tried to take initiative at work, and advocate for myself, and all that like Molly was telling me I should to make myself less of a train wreck, and, well, uh, My boss is a fucking madman.” She said, pulling her hand away from the wound, showing the blood coating her fingers. “So, the whole raise conversation didn’t go over well, exactly…”-Beau gets shot. Yasha helps.





	fists to a gunfight

**Author's Note:**

> Originally a prompt fill on tumblr. "Someone else was doing a "bad things happen bingo" and i saw 'gunshot'. Modern au. Beau gets shot doing... Uh... Not legal things? Who does she go to for help?"  
> find me there at howlingheartdemigod

Beau hissed, holding gauze against her side as she stumbled towards the apartment door. She should have knows better than to stand up to the league’s organizer. He didn’t like people who mouthed back. He’d decided she was the heel, which meant she was the heel, even if that was obviously bullshit, and probably racist, while she was at it. She hadn’t expected him to fucking shoot her. What kind of maniac did that? The Gentleman, of course, before waving her and her bleeding torso out of the room with a promise he hadn’t hit anything important, and a warning that she needed to have a good attitude if she ever wanted to box in this city again.

Beau knew better than to go to the hospital. She wasn’t that stupid, at least. Instead, she went to the only person she knew for a fact had knowledge about pulling bullets out of people. She knocked on the door, leaning heavily on the frame, and waited, hoping someone was home. She was bleeding a lot. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if no one was home. She was about to lift her hand and knock again, when the door opened, revealing a tall woman, wearing black pajama pants, a sports bra, and an annoyed, sleepy expression. 

“Yasha!” Beau greeted, a stupid smile on her lips. “You’re up. Good.”

“You woke me.” Yasha replied, a pissed look on her face. Yasha looked fucking hot when she was pissed off. “You better have a good reason.” She said, looking Beau up and down. She couldn’t see the blood on the black hoodie, but they could see how she slumped, the sweat on her skin. “Beau, what’s…” 

“Ah, well… I tried to take initiative at work, advocate for myself, and all that like Molly was telling me I should to be less of a train wreck, and, well, uh. My boss is a fucking madman.” She pulled her hand away from the wound, showing the blood coating her fingers. “So, the whole raise conversation didn’t go over well, exactly…” 

“Oh, dear God.” Yasha said, before grabbing Beau’s wrist and pulling her inside. “Molly,” she called over her shoulder. Beau scanned the space, as Yasha pulled her hoodie up, an action that would probably occupy more of her thoughts if she wasn’t dealing with severe blood loss. She realized that Molly was sitting on the couch ten feet away from the door, and had just decided not to get up. Beau wasn’t sure what Yasha saw in him as a friend. Except of course, when she did. Molly was an incredible friend when he wanted to be, and a horrible inconvenience when he didn’t. He wanted to make the world deal with him, even when the world didn’t want anything to do with him. It was admirable. 

_ Wow _ , Beau thought, I’m a fucking philosopher.  _ I wonder if that’s the adrenaline or the lack of oxygen to my brain. _

Molly looked over, and his eyes went wide, seeing Beau bleeding heavily on to their welcome mat. “Jesus, fucking Christ.” He said, springing to his feet. “Holy hell.” 

“Towels, Molly.” Yasha called, leaning Beau to lean against the now closed door. 

Molly nodded and headed off towards their linen closet. 

“You’re great at giving orders, Yasha.” Beau said, head tilting back a little. “I’m good at taking them, if you ever wanted to… That sounded… Why did I say that.” She said, eyes drifting shut. “Jesus fuck I need to shut up.”

“Don’t you dare.” Yasha said, before catching herself, blushing and stammering a little through her next words. “Talking, is, it’s good. It’s, it shows that your brain is still functioning, still has enough running to it. And I don’t… I don’t mind your compliments, Beauregard.”

Before Beau could think of a proper response, Molly was back. “Towels.” He said, arms laden with them. 

“On the couch, please.” Yasha said.

“The couch’s pleather, so it’ll be easy to clean.” Beau muttered, as Molly headed over and laid the towels out. 

“Correct Beau.” Yasha said, moving and pulling one of Beau’s arms over her shoulder. She walked her to the couch. “Molly I need my first aid kit from under the bathroom sink, and the rubbing alcohol next to it.”

Molly nodded and headed back off. 

“You’re so good at this.” Beau said again. “Like, I don’t know how to get a bullet out of people.” 

Yasha let out a little breath. “It’s all practice.” she told her. “War gives you skills you didn’t know you would need.”

Beau hummed. “I never went to war.” she said. “I did commit a few felonies though.” 

Yasha’s eyes flicked up to her. “Oh?” she asked. 

“Yeah. Couple forms of espionage for the Dwendalian government. It’s illegal for an operative of the state to perform on our soil. I’m not supposed to talk about it, though.” she said, eyes lifting to the ceiling. 

“I didn’t know that about you.” Yasha said, tugging Beau to sit her up. Yasha unzipped Beau’s sweatshirt and tugged it off her shoulders. Not the context for that action Beau had been hoping for, if she was honest.

“Well,” Beau said shrugging. “I was young. They told me I wouldn’t have to go back to high school, or go to juvie if I worked for them. My father was more than happy to have me occupied with something worthy of our family name, so... I never got shot though. This is a first.” 

“I have so many new questions about your life.” Molly had returned, holding a red case, a bottle of rubbing alcohol under his arm. 

Yasha lowered Beau back down. “Molly, if you’d be so kind, call Jester. I need her help.”

Beau let out a low groan. “She’s gonna call Nott and Deuces, who are so gonna lecture me.” She complained. 

“Molly, get Jester.” Yasha repeated, fixing Beau with a look. “She is the only certified nurse we know.”

Beau let out a sigh, grumbling about how Jester didn’t even use that degree, as Molly walked away to dial the phone

Beau watched as Yasha doused her hands in rubbing alcohol. “this is gonna sting.” she said, overturning a quarter of the bottle on Beau’s stomach before Beau could ask what would sting.

“Shiiiit.” Beau muttered, arching a little. 

“Still, Beau.” Yasha said, voice remarkably low and sweet for the situation. “How about, uh, you tell me about this boss of yours. I think I’d like to have words with him.”

Beau looked over at her. “He’s… He’s not my boss, he’s like… my bosses bosses boss. He’s who my contract is with. For the questionable legality of the fighting ring, it’s incredibly well structured.” She said, “But you can’t, Yash. He’s… he’s a bad dude. He’s dangerous.” Beau shook her head. “I should have listened to Dairon.”

“Who?” Yasha asked, finger prodding at Beau’s stomach, trying to find the bullet.

“Dairon. She… she got me out. Of the whole, working for the government thing. I mean, she trained me to use what I’d learned for good. And she taught me how to fight. When I cut ties with her, she told me I needed to be careful. I needed to keep my rage in check. I miss her. She was great.”

Yasha was digging around in the case. “Why’d you leave?” She asked, eyes flicking over to Beau. 

“I got scared.” she admitted. “I… I thought I couldn’t be a good person.” She tried to shrug, but seeing as she was laying down, it wasn’t the most effective thing. “I thought I was too broken. Too much of an asshole.”

Yasha had stopped moving, staring at Beau for a moment. Beau found herself marveling at how close Yasha’s face was to hers. “You are a good person, Beau.” 

Beau looked at her, the rawness in her gaze catching her off guard. Beau took a breath, then broke the connection, not wanting to think about how it made her heart skip. It wasn’t a normal ‘holy shit hot girl’ feeling. It was worse, scarier, more. 

Beau shut her eyes. “Keep telling me that, I’ll try and believe it.” She muttered. 

Yasha’s words came soft and measured. “I will. I’ll tell you until you believe it.”

Beau looked over, as Yasha looked down, pulling a pair of surgical tweezers from some packaging. She dumped some more rubbing alcohol over them, then looked to Beau. “I need you to stay still, okay?” she said. 

Beau took a breath, then leaned back. “Yup.” she said. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, trying to get into a meditative state. She curled her hands into fists, starting to separate a little. But then she felt the rough skin of Yasha’s hand pressing into her stomach. She felt Yasha’s thumb drift back and forth, a small act of comfort. She again became painfully aware of how close Yasha was. Then she felt the tweezers enter the wound the bullet had ripped into her body, and hissed in pain, back arching up off the couch, hands curled into the material under her fingers. “Fuck, fuck,  _ fuck! _ ” 

“I know, I know.” Yasha said. “Be still, Beauregard.” She felt Yasha pull the hand she had braced on her stomach away, and dig around in the case. “Here, bite this so you don’t bite your tongue.” She said, and Beau felt her hold something leather to her lips. Beau opened her mouth and used her tongue to slide it into place. She wanted to ask Yasha why she had a leather mouth guard in her first aid bag. She didn’t want to know the answer, figuring Beau wasn’t the first person she’d had to patch up without anesthetic. She figured, in fact, that some of the patching up had been on herself. 

Yasha got back to work, and after a few painstaking moments, Beau felt and heard the squelch of the bullet wrenching out. “Okay, okay, okay. It’s in tact. There aren’t any other pieces.” Yasha said under her breath. “Beau, I’m going to need to feel around inside, to make sure that it didn’t hit anything.” She said, and Beau heard her undoing the cap of the rubbing alcohol again. Beau opened her eyes, and looked over to see Yasha dousing her hands over a towel again. Beau looked past her, seeing the small dark bullet, coated in blood, on a nice white hand towel.

‘Molly is going to hold this over me forever. I ruined so many towels.’ she thought. 

“Yash.” Beau heard Molly call. “Jester’s on her way. Fjord’s with her, they were out together. I also called Caleb, who’s insisting on coming. Nott and Caduceus were both already with him.”

“Fuck.” Beau said though the mouth guard, so it sounded more like ‘Phuac.’

Molly smiled moving around by her head. “I like this. Can we put a bit in her mouth all the time. 

“Phuac houa, Ollieauk.” Beau muttered, shutting her eyes again. She took a deep breath, and felt Molly put his hands on her shoulders, half comforting her, half holding her down. 

Yasha pressed her fingers against the wound, searching for anything that would need internal stitches. She prayed there wasn’t. That would mean, at best, Jester’s more intense expertise, at worst, going to the hospital. Beau hated hospitals. 

“I think we’re good.” Yasha said, pressing some gauze to the wound. “If you don’t want a nasty scar, we should pack this and for Jester to get here.”

Beau shook her head. “Ah dunn-” She reached a hand up and took the guard out of her mouth. “I don’t care. Stitch me up.” 

Yasha looked up at her. “Jester is still coming, and she will still insist on looking you over.”

“But,” Beau had to take a deep breath, a wave of dizziness hitting her. The adrenaline was wearing off. She was gonna start feeling the pain a lot worse a lot sooner. “If I’m patched she’ll have less to stress about. And my only life philosophy is ‘keep Jester from stressing.’” She cracked a smile, but she had a tough crowd, who really didn’t think she was funny in the moment. Yasha and Molly locked eyes, then Yasha sighed, and moved to retrieve her suture supplied from the kit.

“Put the guard back in your mouth, Beauregard.” Yasha said, turning to start stitching her up.

Beau did so, ignoring Molly’s ‘Let me leave the room at least.’

Beau shut her eyes again, not wanting to see herself get stitched up. She didn’t like medical stuff on her own body. It’s why her nose was set crooked. It’s why her ankle popped when she walked. It’s why her shoulder had been stiff since she took a bad fall off a balcony onto a flower bush at age 17, two years into her career in espionage.

After a few minutes, or an hour, or whatever, Beau felt the tugging sensation stop, and heard Yasha let out a breath. “Okay. Beau.” she said, “I just need to wrap this.” 

Beau let out a little sigh. She took the mouth guard out, dropping it off the couch. “Good.” she said. She felt Yasha’s fingers move to start wrapping the wound. There was a pounding knock at the door, that Molly headed off to answer. “Hey, Beau.” Yasha said. 

Beau turned her head, letting out a little, “Hmm?” her noise disappeared into a gasp of shock as Yasha kissed her. Beau barely had a chance to kiss her back, to tilt her head, to smile into it, before Yasha pulled away again. 

“Don’t you ever scare me like this again.” she said. “And we are going tomorrow to buy you out of your contract.”

Beau had a dopey smile on her face, as Jester bounded into the room, checking Beau over. She still had it an hour later, long after the rest of her friends, family, had arrived to dote over her. She still had it when she fell asleep on the couch. And it returned as soon as she woke up to find her friends sprawled around the room asleep. Yasha, in the old recliner, asleep, a hand stretched towards Beau on the couch. Beau took a breath, one hand going to the gauze on her stomach. She reached the other towards Yasha’s hand, and let out a sigh of relief, deciding that she’d picked the right person to come to after all.


End file.
